The Masters' Chronicles 012- A Matter of Leverage
by Fainmaca
Summary: A young soldier in the Temerian army, Corrine Dennetz finds herself confronted by a group of bandits, testing her abilities and knowledge to their limits. Based on characters and events from the second International edition of the Witcher School LARP in Poland.
1. Chapter 1

The creaks and groans of shifting wood echoed across the forest. Heavy wooden wheels churned in the dirt of a broad roadway, sending deep rumbles shivering through the earth. A train of bulky wagons heaved into view, each pulled by a quartet of panting, weary horses. Under the canvas tarpaulins that covered the wagons, varying lengths of cut timber and an array of metal fittings lurked in some wagons, while others held dozens of sacks of grain, . To the untrained eye, this could have seemed like any old shipment of wares, were it not for the column of two dozen armoured figures that marched alongside the wagons, flanking the convoy on either side. Flashes of blue adorned each of the figures, the lilies of the Temerian crown on display for all to see. A military convoy, carrying vital supplies to the frontlines. The food, rations for soldiers. The timer and metal, parts for the engines of war.

At the head of the convoy, a single more ornate, more heavily guarded wagon led the way. Unlike the other wagons, this one had no canvas to cover it, instead being a sealed box, heavily reinforced with bands of iron. Inside, many heavy chests waited, their contents being hundreds of golden coins, the lifeblood of an army on the move. A number of soldiers perched upon the wagon itself, guarding the precious cargo. On the leading footboard of this wagon, next to the driver, sat one soldier, the smallest of stature among the convoy.

The young sergeant known as Corrine shuffled a little as the wagon shook under her, wide wooden wheels catching momentarily in a rut. Frowning, the fresh-faced soldier focused again on the book that lay across her lap, trying to hold her charcoal steady, reluctant to make an error in her sketches. She steadied her hand, in spite of the wagon's shuddering, and continued her work, marking out a series of complex equations and calculations.

A young, fresh-faced recruit from Maribor, Corrine had only recently been drafted, her knowledge and sharp wit earning her a place in the army's ranks. Now, still adapting to the career path that had found her, the young woman had been assigned to the convoy, making their way towards the city of Novigrad, where the rest of the army already waited.

Sighing, she raised her sky-blue eyes from her notebook, closing its leather-bound pages. She reached up to brush at a strand of fire-red hair that had worked its way free of the elegant but practical braiding that crowned her head. Her lip curled as she shifted uncomfortably. Her armour, a padded gambeson with shining leather straps and a broad leather belt, still didn't feel quite right. The quartermaster had fitted her out with the armour mere days before, but it still needed time to be broken in through wear and use.

The young soldier paused, looking down at the armour. She paused when her eyes alighted upon the lilies stitched to the left breast of her gambeson, the large symbol boldly declaring her allegiance. She'd never seen her life leading her in this direction. She'd always assumed that she'd end up following her father into politics, walking the upper tiers of society, never living up to her potential. Then, after one too many smart remarks at a formal dinner, her father had shipped her off to the academy at Oxenfurt, where her keen mind became immediately obvious. In a matter of months, she'd completed her studies, gaining the notice of a recruiter for the Temerian army. Now, with war brewing in Velen, she'd been summoned to the frontlines of a war, her skills, along with those of her comrades, a highly sought commodity in such times.

The wagon suddenly lurched, coming to an abrupt halt and jolting Corrine out of her thoughts. The sergeant straightened, looking about curiously. Around her, her fellow soldiers were moving towards the front of the convoy. She glanced forward, spotting the barrier that now barred the convoy's way.

A massive tree lay across the roadway, blocking the way forward. To one side, the stump of the tree could be seen, clearly cut by an axe. This realisation immediately put the young woman on guard, reaching instinctively for the sword at her hip as she leapt down from the wagon.

"Watch the flanks!" The bellowing voice of the commander, Vynas, echoed back along the length of the convoy.

The small shape, no larger than an apple, soared out from the bushes to one side of the road. It struck the dirt road next to the lead wagon, hissing like a serpent. Corrine only had a moment to regard it, before a blinding white flash filled her vision, a blast of hot air knocking her off her feet.

The young sergeant's head spun, her ears filled with a tinny ringing as her eyes struggled to recover. With a groan of effort, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, shaking her head to clear the fog that threatened to engulf her. She winced, finally clearing the noise in her ears.

The roar of battle greeted her as her hearing returned. Swords clashed against steel, men yelled and screamed in equal parts rage and pain. The screams of the wounded rose into the air around her. With a final shake of her head, she opened her eyes again, her focus slowly returning.

A scene of madness greeted her. Bandits, clad in leather armour a myriad shades of brown and green to aid them in blending into the forest, charged at the soldiers. Many a fearsome battlecry tore loose from their throats as they ripped into the column with swords, axes, even a few spears and halberds, a mixture of stolen weapons, no doubt. Arrows flew overhead, peppering the soldiers and hampering their movements.

More of the small spherical devices arced over the combatants, hissing for a moment before exploding with loud pops and spreading chaos among the Temerian forces. Zerrikanian black powder bombs, Corrine surmised, although how common brigands had managed to get a hold of the materials needed to make them, she couldn't say.

The lead wagon of the convoy lurched to the side, one of its wheels destroyed by the explosion that had knocked Corrine away. Two of the timber wagons now burned, sending plumes of choking black smoke into the sky. Already, half of the small convoy had been butchered, the greater numbers of the bandits and their explosives giving them the edge.

Corrine staggered to her feet, looking about dizzily for her blade, dropped in the dirt. She lifted the weapon, looking about warily.

A single bandit approached her, grinning hungrily as he lifted his axe, taking a swing at her. The sergeant parried the blow, the impact vibrating back up her arm painfully. She traded another couple of blows, the brigand's axe swiping at her wildly. In comparison, the soldier's defences were much more disciplined and precise. She blocked another strike, then countered, lunging forward with a quick jab that pierced the man's side, summoning forth a bellow of pain. The bandit scowled, staggering to the side as bloody crimson stained his armour. Corrine gave him no reprieve, stepping forward with a quick upwards slash. Her foe let out a short cry as he fell back, a deep cut bisecting his face. Corrine moved forward, lifting her blade to deliver a killing blow as the bandit glared up at her.

So absorbed was the sergeant in attacking the opponent in front of her, she failed to hear the thundering gallop behind her. A shadow fell across the sergeant, and a sharp pain blossomed in the back of her skull as something hit her. She fell to her knees, blackness overtaking her mind as the last few sounds of the battle raging around her filled her ears.


	2. Chapter 2

Consciousness slowly returned to Corrine, followed by a flood of pain, dizziness, and confusion. Heavy pounding pulsed through her skull as she winced, squeezing her eyes more tightly closed as a groan of pain slipped from behind clenched teeth. Something cold pinched at her wrists, while rough-cut stone pressed into her back. Slowly, cautiously, she opened her eyes.

Dim light filtered into what seemed to be a cell of some dungeon. Green scum crawled up the walls in damp tendrils, thriving in the gloom. Only a faint sliver of light managed to worm its way through a high-set window criss-crossed with bars. The still-groggy sergeant turned her head to one side, looking at the heavy wooden doorway that was the only entrance, noting the very solid looking iron lock.

Corrine cleared her throat, a dry feeling making her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. The ringing in her ears had faded, replaced with the drip-drip-drip of water somewhere beyond the confines of the cell, along with a faint susurrus of activity filtering through the window.

"You're awake."

The noise startled Corrine, the soldier turning to see what had originally looked like a small bundle of sackcloth sprout hands, feet, and a head. Tufts of white hair sprouted erratically from an otherwise smooth dome of a head, while a gnarled face turned it's gaze towards her. The short limbs and enlarged nose and ears instantly told her that this was a gnome, albeit a rather gaunt, malnourished one. The diminutive creature's features split in a relieved but cautious smile.

"Glad to see you're alright." He glanced down at the manacles around her wrists, matched by the same ones around his own. "Well, as alright as can be expected."

"Where am I?"

"Welcome to the most luxurious suite in Hightower, your new home!" The Gnome grinned as he gestured at the damp stone walls. "Your new lodgings include four stone walls, a view of the Pontar from your window, if you squint hard enough, and an entire bucket to take a shit in that is emptied out maybe once a month."

"Charming." Corrine grunted, shifting to sit up straight. Her shoulders pinched, the chains binding her hands preventing much movement. "And the bandits control this 'Hightower'?"

"The "Sons of Redania", yes. The merchants of Novigrad gifted them this keep not too long ago, after the previous owners defected and fled to Tretogor. In exchange, they're meant to harass and wear down any Temerian troops that might try to march on the city."

"Sons of Redania… they an actual military company?"

"Far from it." The Gnome sneered. "Most of them are barely more than cut-purses and pickpockets that slipped the hangman's noose. Others may have once been mercenaries or even soldiers, but now they're just a gang looking to exploit this war for their own benefit."

"Explains why they attacked us." Corrine winced as a twinge of pain pulsed through her, bruised limbs groaning in protest. "What about you? How'd you end up here?"

"I came with the castle, unfortunately." The Gnome stared at his bound hands. "The name's Vicktor Ardelstein. I served as alchemist to the Boromil family before they defected. One day, they were gone. The next, these bandits showed up, took over and threw me in here. They force me to make-"

A sudden rattle interrupted the diminutive man, the door to the cell thrust open as a tall figure stepped in. At the clamour, the Gnome scurried backwards, getting as far away from the new arrival as possible. Corrine felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise a little as she realised that the newcomer was familiar to her, the same man she had fought during the attack on the convoy. Cloth stained crimson covered the left side of his face, the wound the sergeant had given him during their confrontation obviously still healing. His lips curled back as he looked at her with his uninjured eye.

Before he could say anything, another figure stepped in behind him, taller, more imposing. Tattoos marked his bare forearms, while a confident grin adorned his features. A carefully trimmed moustache twitched on his upper lip, while his scalp remained bare, shaved close to the skin. Emerald green eyes pierced the darkness. His scarred hands clutched at what Corrine quickly realised was her sketchbook, thumbing through the pages.

Silence filled the cell for another moment, only punctuated by the rustling of paper. When the taller man spoke, his voice growled with just the faintest hint of a Redanian brogue. His eyes did not lift from the page.

"When the first Dwarves learned how to shape iron, it changed the world forever. Since then, we've all been locked in a struggle for supremacy, a race to discover the next sword, to unearth the newest bow and arrow, to revolutionise the shield." He turned another page, turning the sketchbook on its side. ""There have been leaps forward, of course. The Zerrikanians, with their 'Dragon's Blood', the Dwarves with their steel, and the Magi with their magical ways of enhancing weapons and armour. It's safe to say that we've never had so many ways to slaughter one another as we do right now."

He lifted the book, allowing it to dangle from one hand as he turned the sketches towards the sergeant, his green eyes glinting in triumph.

"And now, with Geddes' armies threatening to march across our lands, I find one of the King's own engineers landing squarely in my lap, and a Sergeant to boot."

"Yes, well done." Corrine drawled, a scowl carving across her features. "Now what? You talk me to death?"

"Oh, nothing so crude." The bandit sidestepped the jibe, a cruel grin twisting his lips. "No, you're far more valuable alive."

The looming bandit moved closer to her, dropping into a low crouch as he brought his own face close to her. He held up the sketchbook again.

"I've seen some of these machines before, in the academy of Oxenfurt. They're Zerrikanian designs, correct?"

He didn't wait for an answer, instead thumbing through the book until he found one particular sketch. An iron globe with a delicate glass mechanism inside.

"And this… the Zerrikanian 'Dracolizard's Fury'. Ofieri Fire launched by a trebuchet. Difficult to make, but very effective against infantry." His eyes gleamed again as he met Corrine's gaze. "You're going to build this for me."

"Like hell I will." Corrine spat the words out, trying to shuffle further away from the bandit. "I'd sooner-"

"I'm sure you would." He interrupted her. "But consider this- you weren't the only soldier we captured today. I have plenty of your comrades-in-arms sitting in cells just like this one."

"They won't help you either." Corrine replied, squaring her shoulders. "Temeria doesn't bend to thugs like you."

"I've no doubt." The bandit shrugged, although he lost none of his confidence. "But, for every day you refuse to work on my weapons for me, I'll slit the throats of three of your comrades. Your army is a week away. I can't promise I won't run out of throats to slit before then, and have to move on to… more severe methods to get what I want."

He stood up straight, dusting off his knees. With a callous gesture, he flung the sketchbook at the sergeant.

"Should you decide to comply, I'll have our Alchemist friend here help you." He nodded at the cowering figure of the Gnome. "Vicktor's workshop in the lower levels of the castle can easily make the Ofieri fire for you. We have more than enough ore in the castle's forge for your work." With that, he turned to leave, pausing for but a moment at the door. "You have one day to decide."

The bandit left, his one-eyed friend sparing Corrine a leering grin of triumph before following him. Behind them, Corrine slumped against the wall, uncertain, lost.

~o~0~o~

Dawn had risen, the first fingers of daylight crawling across the castle. Before even a glimmer of light had found its way into her cell, Corrine was roused by the rattle of the door once more, a trio of bandits hurriedly dragging her outside. Cold air greeted her, instantly shaking off any lingering drowsiness as she found herself in the courtyard of a moderately large castle, showing its age somewhat. Cracks formed a web across some of the aged stonework, while moss and vines worked to consume the lower portions of the walls. Even so, the keep appeared to be reasonably sound, strong enough to withstand the elements and now provide a home for what seemed to be a large complement of bandits.

The ragged cut-purses numbered at least two dozen, from what the sergeant could see, a mixture of Humans, Dwarves, even a few Elves. They were apparently in the process of shoring up some of the more fragile portions of wall, some mixing mortar to fill cracks while others used large timbers to strengthen failing masonry.

In the centre of the courtyard, a small wooden structure had been built, a platform that rose above the rest of the cobblestones. On this platform stood the same bandit who had spoken to Corrine the previous day, along with the one-eyed man she had fought previously. Between them, three figures knelt, coarse sacks pulled over their heads. Even so, the blue of their uniform was hard to mistake.

As Corrine was dragged towards this display, the man who seemed to be the leader of the bandits offered her a broad smile.

"Ah, our engineer is awake!" He grinned. "So tell me, soldier, what is your answer to my proposal? Will you build me my weapons?"

Corrine paused, hesitating just a moment. She glanced at the kneeling Temerians, surrounded by enemies with no hope of escape. Anger rose in her breast as she spat defiantly.

"Go to hell."

The gobbet of saliva arced through the air, landing on the muddy stonework with a wet splat. The leader glanced at it for a second, then shrugged.

"Have it your way." He glanced over his shoulder. "The first one."

Without a second's hesitation, One-Eye pulled a long knife from his belt and knelt next to the first shape. A quick, precise swipe of the blade opened the throat, a tide of red spilling forth. The hooded figure released a startled gurgle before falling forwards, landing face-down in the growing pool of scarlet that now soaked the planks underneath it.

Corrine winced, closing her eyes as she tried to turn away, but the rough hands of one of the bandits holding her, grabbed her chin, forcefully turning her to face the scene. The bandit leader, not even turning to look back at the dying soldier, kept his eye trained squarely on the sergeant.

"You still have a chance to save your people, Sergeant."

Corrine didn't even answer, keeping her eyes squeezed shut as she tried to still the tremor that vibrated through her. Equal parts sorrow, anger and frustration threatened to overwhelm her as she held her tongue. The leader didn't even bark an order, the wet slicing sound of another throat being opened reaching the Sergeant's ears as another body dropped with barely a cry.

"Open your eyes, Sergeant!" The bandit leader barked as a rustling sound echoed through the courtyard. "Take a look at the last of your friends to die today."

Slowly, tentatively, Corrine opened her eyes to see the leader kneeling next to the third figure. He'd pulled the sackcloth back to reveal the features of a young but stern man wearing the stripes of a commander. Vynas, her direct superior. One of the few voices in Baron Strenger's forces that spoke favourably of her and her innovations. The young man's mouth was gagged, but his eyes spoke volumes. One, swollen and bloodshot, betrayed a savage interrogation survived. His gaze was wide, frantic, just a little afraid even as he fought to remain resolute. He flinched as the bandit leader produced a curved dagger and raised it to his throat.

"I'm prepared to do this every day, Sergeant." The bandit growled. "Now, what's it going to be?"

Vynas' eyes flashed as he locked his gaze with Corrine's, a warning and a plea in the same expression. Don't, those eyes begged. Don't do it. Corrine found herself unable to meet that stare, looking down to the stonework at her feet. The bandit, watching this, sighed loudly.

"Fine." His voice was low. "Guess we'll just have to try again tomorrow."

His hand shifted, pressing the sharpened blade to the young man's flesh. Slowly, deliberately, he began to draw the blade across the skin, parting it effortlessly as crimson began to flow in first a gentle trickle.

"Wait!"

The bandit's hand stopped, the blade still pressed to the soldier's throat as he looked towards the Sergeant. Corrine kept her eyes fixed downwards as the next few words clung to her tongue, reluctant to emerge into the world.

"I'll do it."

Silence fell across the courtyard for just a second, before an amused chuckle emerged from the bandit's chest.

"That's great!" He stood, dagger sheathed in a quick motion. "We'll bring Vicktor up from the cells, and set the two of you to work right away. I'm so glad we could make you see things our way."

Corrine hung her head, a knot of guilt in her gut as she was marched away from the courtyard. She didn't look back to Vynas, unable to meet his betrayed gaze. Instead, she focused on putting one foot in front of the other as her captors led her back into the keep.

In moments, the Sergeant had been led to a workshop of some sort. Glassware filled a bench, alchemical apparatus that Corrine recognised from her time in Oxenfurt. A small forge sat cold and empty against the far wall, while stacks of barrels filled half of the room. Some of the labels she recognised, other ones were utter gibberish to her.

Before Corrine had perused even half of the contents of the workshop, two more bandits entered flanking the haggard and very confused Gnome, shoving him into the room with the Sergeant. Vicktor looked around for a few moments before turning a questioning glance towards Corrine.

"They said you've agreed to build their weapons for them." He hesitated, glancing towards the door. "What changed your mind?"

"Their boss made me realise that he was going to kill a lot of people no matter what I agreed to do." Corrine shrugged. "I'm counting on this being the best way to keep the number of people who have to die down to a minimum."

"But if he gets a hold of the Dracolizard's Fury, he'll-"

"I know." Corrine interrupted. "And if we don't, then he's going to kill every prisoner in this castle to force our hand. That's why, right now, I need you to tell me everything we have on hand here."

Vicktor paused for just a moment, eyes narrowing as he looked at the soldier before him. His voice dropped to a whisper.

"...You're not going to make his weapons, are you?"

"Oh, I'll give him exactly what he's asked for." Corrine's brow furrowed as her mind started to race. "He thinks I'm just a scared scholar he can intimidate. I'm going to show him that an engineer is so much more."


	3. Chapter 3

"What's she doing?"

Herburt squinted as he peered through the narrow slot in the door, trying to make out the details within the workshop beyond. Precious little revealed itself to him, aside from the indistinct forms of the Gnome and the Temerian soldier shuffling around the low glow of the forge. Beside him, his comrade Thernan shrugged, leaning back against the stone wall of the doorframe as he stifled a yawn.

"Damned if I know. She's crazy, just like the stuntie."

"Still, you sure we should be leavin' 'em to tinker away like that?" Herburt's expression remained uncertain.

"You heard Kevan, he said to leave 'em in peace. I'm not about to risk a lashin' to indulge your curiosity."

Inside the workshop, the orange light of the forge cast uncertain shadows across the floor, while candles and lanterns hung overhead to try and illuminate some of the work surfaces. Even so, the light within the workshop was faint and difficult for Corrine to work with. Her newfound comrade, Vicktor, appeared less bothered by the gloom, his eyes twinkling in the darkness as he performed complex alchemical tasks and aided her with her work.

Three days the duo had worked away, following Corrine's sketches and notes as they smelted, hammered and shaped numerous metal pieces into shape, created a tangled array of glassware, and carved pieces of wood. Each day the bandit leader, whose name Corrine now knew to be Kevan of Blaviken, a renowned rabble-rouser and troublemaker in the township before fleeing south to Temeria, had come into the workshop to check on their progress. So far, he had refrained from killing any more of his hostages, but she knew that his patience could only be tested so far. Each day he carefully examined their work, eyes narrowing as he glanced at the mess of cogs, bolts and glass.

Vicktor sighed as he stepped away from the forge, laying down a glowing piece of metal on the anvil. He tapped it a few times, twisting it in a couple of places, further refining a long metal point before dipping it in a bucket of water to quench the metal. At the loud hiss of steaming water, Corrine glanced up, and the pair's gaze met. The Gnome sidled over, sparing a cautious glance towards the door before muttering under his breath.

"The outer casings for the Fury is nearly finished. It won't be long now before they're is ready to be put together."

"I know." Corrine glanced at the small piece of woodwork in her hands, sharp chisel scraping away a small splinter at a time until it matched her designs.

"He's going to start pushing for a demonstration of our progress."

"I know." Her teeth clenched as she worked her way around a particularly intricate piece.

"If he does that, we won't be able to keep hiding the 'extras' we've been working on-"

"I know, okay?" She hissed, careful not to let her voice rise too much. "We're running out of time. I need at least another day."

Almost as if on cue, a rattling sound from the door drew the gaze of the room's occupants as Kevan stepped inside, the tall Redanian bowing his head a little to pass under the doorframe and dodge some of the lower-hanging timbers bracing the ceiling.

The bandit leader stalked through the workshop, the other bandit whom Corrine had come to know as One-Eye standing guard by the doorway. Kevan picked at the tools spread out across one of the tables before picking up a small lump of grey, powdery metal. As his fingertips brushed the strange nugget, a squeak of concern hitched in Corrine's throat, the sergeant taking a half-step forward before One-Eye's hand whipped to the hilt of the sword at his hip. Kevan paused, his sharp eyes glancing to to Temerian.

"Be careful." Corrine tried to ignore the threatening glare from One-Eye. "It's a very sensitive material. Crystallised Fermentine Essence. It forms a base for the Ofieri Fire." She nodded to the bandit's hand. "Best not to handle it without gloves of some kind."

Slowly, Kevan moved his hand away from the nugget, a smirk spreading across his lips.

"You're a smart one, Sergeant Dennetz." Since learning her name and rank, he'd made a point to emphasise it during every conversation they shared, although Corrine did not know why. Merely having that knowledge seemed to be pleasing to him. As she pondered this, his expression dropped sharply. "Although not smart enough, it would seem, to have delivered the weapons I was promised."

"We are making good progress." Corrine assured. "Eight shots should be ready by-"

"You think I don't recognise when someone is stalling for time?" The faintest hint of steel entered his words.

"It is a very intricate mechanism, and you want us to create a lot of material for you." Corrine kept her tone steady, even as the looming bandit passed her by, stepping close to the forge. He was a predator, stalking his prey. "One small mistake could-"

The bandit moved with alarming speed, striking like a cobra. His large, plate-like hand grabbed hold of Vicktor's skull, slamming the Gnome's head down into the anvil with a solid crack. The diminutive alchemist struggled against the larger man's grasp, unable to break free. As his victim writhed in his grasp, Kevan turned back towards Corrine, his eyes now burning with impatience.

"Now's not the time to play games with me, Sergeant. I've given you more than enough time, and still you drag things out!"

He lifted his hand, making ready to slam Vicktor's head into the anvil again.

"Wait!" Corrine's shout cut through the workshop, momentarily stopping the bandit in his assault. "I need him to finish the work." She shrugged. "He's got steady hands, and a better eye for measurements than me. Just give us two more days, and the Fury will be finished."

Kevan paused, looking down at the Gnome in his grasp, then back up at the Sergeant. With a snort, he released his captive, dropping the small figure to the floor. He turned to face Corrine, gesturing with a twitch of his head.

"Follow me, Sergeant."

With that, the bandit leader marched from the workshop, pausing only to allow Corrine to catch up with him. One-Eye followed, locking the door to the workshop behind him. In moments, Corrine's captors had led her out into the bailey. The sun shone down overhead, bringing a modicum of warmth to the cold stone of the castle. Corrine squinted, her weary eyes struggling to adjust to the daylight as Kevan led her past the squat buildings that cowered under the walls. The Sergeant glanced around, noting the stables, the storehouses, the small barracks building that she now knew had been converted into a prison for the Temerian captives. Kevan ignored all of these, instead ascending the staircase that led up onto the outer walls. Slowly, warily, Corrine followed him.

A chill breeze whipped across the castle's battlements, sending a shiver down the young engineer's spine. Corrine stepped up next to the bandit leader, glancing out across the flat plain that spread out around the castle. Situated in an open plain, Hightower surveyed several leagues of lowlands, only a few villages interspersing the landscape. Far to the north, the faint shimmer of the Pontar River gleamed in the sunlight.

Kevan leaned forward, placing his broad hands on one of the crenellations. He breathed in deeply, then released a long, low sigh that was whipped away on the wind.

"Not long ago, this land was all Redania's. A proud province, under the control of a strong king. But they couldn't hold onto it. Temeria came in and forced them to flee, continuing a cycle of conquest and retreat that has been repeating since before our grandfathers first drew breath. Until the merchants of Novigrad came. They showed that we didn't need Temeria or Redania to be prosperous. We just needed the will to fight for ourselves, and the coin to protect our holdings. The Guilds of Novigrad showed a new way of governing ourselves, a way that does not need kings or nobility. That's why I came south from Blaviken when the merchants started calling for aid."

Corrine remained silent, listening, curious what the bandit's point was. Kevan turned to wave a hand back at the castle in an expansive gesture.

"It didn't take long to gather a group of like-minded men and women. People who wanted to break free from both Temeria and Redania, to live without such oppression hanging over their heads. We believe in the freedom that Novigrad represents, and won't back down."

"I'm sure the gold they promised you helps a whole lot." Corrine muttered dismissively.

"A little." Kevan spared her a faint smile. "The machinery of this world runs on gold and silver, Sergeant. Far more reliably than blood and duty."

"So what's your point?"

"My point, Sergeant, is that we're ready to make our stand here, no matter the cost. We're more than just petty bandits and thugs." He raised a hand, pointing to the south, where a dark blur marred the land, wisps of black smoke rising into the air. "Your army is already on its way here. And the Baron leading them, this man Strenger? He's not so concerned about the lives of your soldiers as you appear to be. He'll raze this place to the ground with you inside without a second's thought."

With a swiftness that Corrine couldn't have countered, the bandit leader spun, grabbing her by the shoulder and the back of the neck to thrust her over the edge of the wall, holding her there for a long moment. When next he spoke, his voice was a low hiss.

"If that army gets here, and I don't have my weapons, then they'll find every last prisoner we have hanged from the walls, and I'll throw you from here myself. Am I being clear?"

Corrine remained still, not fighting his grasp as she leaned precariously out over open space, a hair's breadth from dropping the vast distance to the ground. She blinked her eyes, silencing the tremour inside her chest as she looked down on castle's moat, a few rocks visible beneath the water's surface where it drew close to the base of the walls. Any fall from this height would almost certainly end in death. The Sergeant swallowed cautiously, then slowly nodded her head. Seemingly satisfied, Kevan pulled her back from the edge.

"Good." He grunted. "You have one day to finish the Dracolizard's Fury. At midday tomorrow, we'll test one of your devices here, and find out whether you and your friends get to survive." He spared a glance over his shoulder to One-Eye. "Take her back downstairs. The Sergeant has a lot of work to do."

~o~0~o~

Vicktor glanced up as the door rattled open, Corrine being thrust unceremoniously through before the door was slammed shut again. The grinding, scraping noise of the lock clicking into place echoed through the workshop.

"What happened?" The Gnome rose to his feet, rushing over to his comrade. Corrine quickly noticed the swelling that encompassed half of his face, a darkening circle forming around his left eye. He noticed her worried glance, reaching up to rub at the swelling with tentative fingertips. "Yeah, I know. Still, could have been a lot worse. Thank you, for speaking up for me."

"Well, I was telling the truth- I do need you here to help me finish our work." Corrine offered a wan smile before glancing back over her shoulder at the door. Her voice dropped a little as she muttered to her friend. "We've only got a day before the Baron and his forces get here. After that, Kevan has said he'll kill us all if the weapons aren't ready, and I think he's desperate enough to follow through on that threat."

"So, what do we do?"

"What we were doing before. We finish the weapons." She paused, thinking back to her time on the battlements, the wind whipping in her hair, the waters of the moat far below her. "With a few modifications. How much of the Fermentine do you think we could make in one night?"

"Uhh… I could maybe fill a firkin, if I spend most of the night on it." His brow furrowed. "And the Ofieri Fire for the Fury?"

"Just make what you can, and load it into one of the shots in place of the Fire." Corrine shuffled over to one of the iron mechanisms, beginning to make adjustments. "We've got one night, let's make it count."

In moments, the sounds of hammering, the roar of flames and the creaking of wood filled the workshop, the two figures going about their business as swiftly as they could. Outside, the sun began to set on the castle while, off in the distance, the glow of the hundreds of campfires of the Temerian army lit up the horizon.


	4. Chapter 4

The first few glimmers of sunlight filtered into the castle's courtyard as Corrine was dragged from the workshop, eyes bleary from a night of ceaseless toil. The sergeant glanced up at the sky, glad to be away from the heat and smoke of the forge, even as her stomach turned and twisted with anxiety. Time for Kevan's test of his new weapons. The castle was already abuzz with activity, the bandits scurrying to prepare for the approaching Temerian forces. Bundles of arrows were being carried to the top of the walls, while wooden barricades were built before the castle's gates. The drawbridge had long since been pulled up, isolating the castle within its moat.

In the centre of the castle's courtyard, a sturdy wooden frame had replaced the platform from the previous days, a shape that Corrine knew all too well. The outline of a mangonel was hard to mistake. One of Kevan's more trusted comrades flitted around the construction, checking joints and testing the tension of the ropes. Corrine noted her sketchbook, laying open beside the contraption. Much to her surprise, the construction seemed to be fairly proficient, with no obvious flaws or deviations from the standard design. The lackey seemed to have a basic education when it came to constructing simple frames. The bandit glanced up as Corrine was escorted closer, stepping aside as Kevan approached, placing a gloved hand on one of the timbers.

"We followed the designs in your book." The bandit leader commented proudly. "It should function as intended. As long as you've delivered your part of the bargain. I trust the ammunition is ready? I'd much rather deliver fire to your troops out there than the severed heads of all your fellow prisoners."

"The Dracolizard's Fury is ready." Corrine's jaw clenched as she answered. "As agreed."

"Good." The bandit grinned. "Hopefully your leaders will have the sense to back off once they see their vanguard engulfed in searing flames. If they have the brains to leave entirely, we'll be able to discuss ransoms for the more valuable among you."

"Temeria doesn't bargain with hostile forces." Corrine replied stiffly.

"Everyone has a price." Kevan shrugged. "If not… well, enough ships pass through Novigrad. I'm sure a few of them would be on the lookout for some Human 'cargo'. Not you, though, my dear Sergeant. Your expertise is hard to replace."

A loud thud caused the pair to turn, glancing to the duo of bandits, under the careful supervision of Barran, carrying two instances of the experimental ammunition. One, bearing a look of contrition, stood over the iron casing that he had dropped. The one-eyed bandit began castigating him, yelling all manner of curses as the young man knelt to pick up the casing. Corrine moved close, inspecting the cast iron carefully. She locked her eyes with his, reproving him with a glance.

"Be careful!" She chided. "One wrong move, and it could blow up in your face!" She paused to gesture to the well, lurking in the shadow of the walls. "Put them under there. If they go off prematurely, I want water close by."

"I thought that Ofieri Fire couldn't be quenched by water?" Kevan interrupted.

"True, the liquid will keep burning, even underwater." Corrine admitted. "But if the flames were to set your clothes ablaze, or spread to the wood of the stables, say, wouldn't you rather have water close at hand?"

The bandit leader could only nod his agreement, gesturing for his men to follow her direction. Before long, all six iron spheres sat beside the well. Corrine moved close, inspecting them all, turning her attention to the one that had been dropped. Aside from a few scratches, the glass sphere inside seemed to be intact, with the fuse and delivery mechanism undamaged. Her eyes brushed across the cold iron, noting a few notches etched into the metal close to the fuse.

"It should still work." She murmured.

"Should?"Kevan asked.

"There's no visible damage. The fuse and the trigger mechanism are the important parts, and they're untouched."

"Alright. We'll use it as our first test." The bandit leader turned to his subordinates as he moved towards the stairs up to the top of the wall. "Load it up!"

Corrine was ushered back as two bandits scooped up the device, loading the mangonel. From the top of the walls, the bandit leader acted as a spotter gazing out at the approaching army while barking out distances and directional adjustments, the siege weapon creaking with every small change made. Finally, after a few minutes of careful work, the weapon was loaded, and all waited for a tense moment while Kevan glanced out at the approaching enemy. He raised an arm, bidding his men to ready to fire. A flame was touched to the fuse and, for just a moment, the only sound in the castle's courtyard was a low hiss

"Fire!" The arm dropped.

There was a deep clunk, followed by a low groan and the twang of ropes releasing their tension. The mangonel twisted, arm ratcheting up and over as it released its payload.

Every eye in the courtyard watched as the iron sphere tumbled through the air, arcing high over the wall. The Dracolizard's Fury soared upwards, spinning a few time more before, with a loud click, it exploded. A ball of fire engulfed the spherical contraption, black smoke and white-hot splinters of shattered glass spreading out in all directions. Like fiery rain, the Ofieri fire fell from the sky, falling in thick strands that burned dark orange, spitting forth oily smoke. As the liquid fire fell, a loud hissing arose from below where the contents of the weapon landed, harmlessly, in the moat. Roiling black smoke continued to rise as it persisted, spreading across the water's surface in random patches.

Kevan turned from the display, glowering as his gaze turned towards Corrine. He raced down the steps, kneeling next to the remaining pieces of ammunition. A brief moment's examination, and he wheeled around, accusing finger pointed at the young sergeant.

"Shortening the fuses, I should have known." He seethed, circling around the Temerian soldier with an almost predatory gait. "What, did you hope it would detonate over the walls, hit me and my men?"

"Something like that." Corrine turned, keeping her eyes on the bandit leader. Kevan's eyes narrowed as he glowered at her.

"Wait… where's the Gnome?" His eyes darted to Barran, watching the confrontation from the side.

"He's still in the workshop, making more Ofieri Fire." The bandit responded.

"And you left him there?" Kevan asked incredulously. "Alone? Find him! Get him out here!"

The one-eyed bandit scurried away, shoulders hunched as if fearing Kevan's wrath. Kevan, meanwhile, kept his eyes fixed firmly on Corrine, fury rising in his stance. The Sergeant, wary of the rage of her captor, kept her hands visible, now aware that she was between him and the well.

"You, don't move!" He seethed.

~o~0~o~

Barran had enlisted the aid of two of his comrades by the time he reached the workshop, the trio bursting into the room with a clatter and much yelling.

The workshop was almost completely silent, save for the roar of the flames. Dim light sent shadows scattering across the many tools and up the walls, casting hellish reds and oranges into the smallest corners. Over the flames, a single cauldron bubbled vivaciously, a flimsy lid barely containing the frothing green contents.

The three bandits glanced around, eyes adjusting to the murk. Feeling that something was amiss, Barran drew his sword.

"Where are you, Groundling?" He snarled.

A sudden clank drew the gaze of all three bandits, turning to face the cauldron once more. From behind the cast iron crucible, the trembling form of Vicktor slowly emerged, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. Barran bared his teeth, nodding to one of his colleagues.

"Get him out of there." His eyes darted back to the diminutive humanoid. "Your little trick with the fuses didn't work, Stuntling. You and your Temerian friend thought you could get smart with us, huh?"

"On the contrary..." Vicktor's eyes gleamed with sudden, defiant focus. "We KNEW we could."

With that, the Gnome lunged forward, ducking under the outstretched arms of the bandit approaching him. He flung himself into the side of the cauldron, ignoring the sizzle of his own flesh as he pressed against the red-hot metal and heaved with every ounce of his strength.

The crucible rocked for just a moment, the contents sloshing about noisily before the lid slipped off, emerald foam splashing out onto the flames as, with an inevitable creak, the cauldron turned over, spilling out the entirety of its contents.

~o~0~o~

Corrine stood stock-still as the bandit chief paced back and forth impatiently, fuming to himself. The Sergeant turned a furtive eye towards the main keep, trying to keep any sign of anxiety from showing in her expression or her stance. Vicktor had said he would be able to provide a distraction if the clipped fuses gambit failed, but had not been clear on the how. If only she'd-

The sound echoed through the courtyard, a faint puff, followed by a small shiver in the rocks underfoot. Heads lifted curiously, even Kevan taking his eyes off the Sergeant to glance in the direction of the keep. A wisp of acrid smoke curled out of one of the castle's doors, followed by more from various windows, the faintest flicker of flames visible inside.

"Shit!" Kevan barked, raw fury obvious in his tone. "Fire in the keep! That fucking Gnome! Somebody get a bucket chain going! And you-"

He wheeled back to his Temerian captive, only to see her wrestling with one of the Dracolizard's Fury spheres, heaving it up onto the lip of the well. A growl of rage escaping his chest, he drew his sword and advanced on her. Only a few feet separated the pair.

"Oh no you don't!" He seethed. "What, you think you'll throw it all down the well? Stupid Temerian bitch, I'll just have my men make more! I'll rain Ofieri Fire on the whole Temerian army, bring them all screaming to their knees!"

"Maybe you could have done, if you'd paid more attention, kept a closer watch over me." Corrine panted as her pulse pounded in her veins. She dropped the iron sphere onto the stonework that surrounded the well, her breath tightening in her lungs as she manoeuvred herself between the advancing bandit and the weapon, one hand placed protectively on the iron sphere. "But there is one detail you've missed, one thing you've got seriously wrong."

The bandit chief paused, a look of confusion creasing his brow. The moment's hesitation was all the Sergeant needed.

"This…" She slapped the iron sphere. "Is not Ofieri Fire."

With a sudden burst of speed, the Temerian soldier shoved at the globe, waited just a second, then hurled herself to the ground. She tucked into a roll, ducking under Kevan's slashing weapon as the bandit rushed past her, coming to a halt at the edge of the well. He had only an instant to glance down into the well before the iron sphere, some fifteen feet below him, vanished beneath the surface of the water.

What followed could not really be described as a sound, but rather a feeling. The earth beneath the castle shifted as a concussive blast of compressed air and water, mixed in with a few bricks, tore its way up from within the well. The explosion instantly engulfed Kevan, the bandit chief not even able to scream before the entirety of his being vanished.

Still rolling away from the well, Corrine was struck in the back by the blast, thrown even further away as razor-sharp splinters of stone peppered her, nicking the flesh here and there and embedding in what remained of her gambeson. The blast threw everyone in the courtyard off their feet, the mangonel shattering into a thousand pieces while the remaining spheres of Dracolizard's Fury were hurled aside, their glass parts shattering as green liquid spattered across the cobblestones. Here and there, the fluid found an open flame, instantly catching light and filling the air with thick, greasy smoke.

The outer wall closest to the well weathered the blast, if barely, long cracks weaving a spider-web pattern across its surface. A few pieced of masonry dropped from the battlements, shattering on the courtyard cobbles.

Silence washed across the castle, as if the water from a massive wave was receding. The air was almost heavy, thick with the shock of the blast. But the true damage went far deeper than was initially obvious. Deep underground, the various strata of the castle's foundations shifted, buckling and heaving as if the earth itself were taking a deep breath. Rocks splintered under the strain, entire shelves giving way. The channel through which the well's water supply ran expanded and contracted, before finally collapsing. Chambers tunnelled out in decades past crumbled down onto one another, until finally the layers below the courtyard, and more importantly the castle's walls, shattered completely.

Corrine waited for a long second, her ears ringing, her breath caught in her chest, as she listened for the creaking and rumbling of collapsing rock. If she'd miscalculated, if she hadn't used enough Fermentine in the explosive or the sphere had gone too deep or not deep enough-

Her thoughts were interrupted as the cobblestones shifted once more, fractures appearing as entire chunks of masonry suddenly heaved upwards, then vanished below. The wall, suddenly having nothing underneath to hold its gargantuan weight, let out a long, low groan before stone parted with mortar and, like a great goliath falling to earth, a massive portion of the wall fell inwards, ripping an opening some ten yards wide into the structure.

Corrine's healing was swiftly returning to her, more and more subtle sounds reaching her dazed mind. The crackle of flames, the screams of the wounded, crushed underneath fallen masonry or coated in now ablaze Ofieri Fire. The barking orders of what level-headed men remained, ordering their panicking fellows to make for the breach. Corrine saw a man leap into the gap in the walls, raising a shield, but a blue-fletched arrow struck him directly between the eyes, felling him with one blow. The pounding of the Temerian war drums could be heard on the other side of the moat already, the commanders already noticing and taking advantage of the massive breach in the walls. The bandits began to rush to make what defence they could at the rift.

The siege engineer shuffled on her hands and knees, making for the shadow of a squat building, one that she recognised as the castle's barracks in ordinary times, but now a temporary prison for the Temerian captives. Shaking her head, Corrine cleared away the last of the confusion, quickly moving to the main door. She tested the latch, thankful when it opened with no problem. She slipped inside, glancing about quickly, but no bandits had remained within, too distracted by the massive commotion outside.

A large cage occupied the centre of the room, little more than an assortment of metal chained together in the crude representation of a cell, filled almost to capacity with a now rather alarmed assortment of soldiers, commoners and other captives. One raised his head, eyes widening as he spotted Corrine. The Sergeant noticed him at the same time, a wave of relief washing over her as she recognised the features of Commander Vynas, the same soldier that Kevan had almost executed mere days before.

"Meltiele's hairy arse… Dennetz, is that you?" He seemed reluctant to even entertain the hope. As the Sergeant moved closer, he stood, recognition energising him. "It is! What's going on, Sergeant? What was that ungodly racket?"

"Cavalry's here, attacking as we speak. I… gave them an opening."

"Not even going to ask." Vynas shrugged. "It's good to see you alive."

Corrine reached down into her gambeson, pulling out a small glass phial that, she noted with more than a little relief, hadn't fractured when she was his by the blast from the explosion. An almost translucent, faintly shimmering blue liquid shone inside. The glass was icy cold to her touch. Without hesitating, she cracked the wax seal on the bottle, pulling the cork and pouring the contents on the lock to the soldiers' 'cage'.

The mixture was Skelligan in origin, a mixture of white pearls, Ducal water and Verbena petals, with an Alchemical ingredient known as Quebrith. Corrine had heard tell that the Witchers used it in their bomb-craft. All that mattered to her in this moment was that the mixture was unnaturally cold. The moment she poured it onto the metal of the lock, it began to hiss, rime forming instantly. In seconds, the metal was too cold to touch with bare flesh, chill mist rising from it. Corrine looked about, spotting a discarded dagger on a nearby table, presumably where a pair of guards had been keeping watch over their charges. She grabbed the blade, turning back to the lock. A moment's listening to the metal revealed the familiar ticking sound she was looking for, and she swung her new weapon, striking it hilt-first. She struck once, twice, three times, before something inside the lock shattered, and the cage fell open.

The newly free soldiers rushed out, each nodding to Corrine as they passed her. Vynas was the last of the Temerians to step out. He patted the Sergeant on the shoulder before turning to the commoners still inside the cell.

"I know you're all scared, but it'll be safer for you to stay here until we deal with the bandits. We'll come back and get you out of here once its safe." He turned to look at his soldiers. "The rest of you, find weapons, sticks, hell I'll settle for frying pans at this point. Our brave boys and girls are trying to get to us from the outside, let's go make their job a little easier!"

He nodded to Corrine, gesturing for the Sergeant to take the lead.

"Dennetz, I think you know this place better than we do. You're in charge."

Corrine nodded, silently gesturing to the other soldiers to follow her. The contingent of soldiers quickly filed out into the courtyard, spreading out in search of anything that could be used as a weapon. The Sergeant scanned the courtyard, noting the knot of bandits clustered at the breach, frantically fighting back a surging horde of blue-clad soldiers. Occasionally a volley of arrows would arc over the heads of the attackers, harrying the bandits further. A few of the defenders had clearly already lost the will to fight, rushing to the castle's gates, where they fought with some whose nerve had not yet broken over whether or not to lower the drawbridge and open the gates. Perhaps they thought to flee the battle, or maybe they hoped to surrender and spare their own lives. Either way, it was clear that the battle was already decided, it was only a matter of time before the Temerians claimed victory fully.

"SERGEANT DENNETZ!"

With a terrible bellow, the one-eyed bandit, Barran, staggered out of the keep, still choking on the thick smoke that now filled the aged building. The bandit was badly burned, pieces of his armour still smoking and peeling away, half of his face nothing more than a mass of blisters and burns. His remaining intact eye glared directly at the Sergeant, a feral intent there. In one hand, his sword was held in a fierce grip. In the other, a small figure that, in spite of his grievous injuries, remained easily identifiable. Vicktor dangled limply in the bandit's grip, and it was unclear if he was even alive. The bandit bared his teeth, his voice a mixture between primal roar and ferocious whisper.

"You think you've outsmarted me, Sergeant, but I've got your friend! Come get him!"

Before the Temerian soldier could even respond, the bandit turned, ascending the steps up onto the wall, taking the Gnome with him. Vynas moved to intercept, but Corrine raised a hand.

"No." She stated firmly. "He's my problem to deal with. Get that gate open so our troops can end this fight quickly."

The commander nodded silently, turning to bark orders at the newly freed forces. Corrine, meanwhile, moved to follow the mutilated bandit, pausing only to grab a sword off one of the corpses that now littered the courtyard. Now armed, she raced up the steps, ascending to the wall and pausing the moment she reached the top.

Barran was waiting for her, still clutching both his weapon and the badly burned Gnome. As he shifted his grip, Corrine was relieved to hear a gasp of pain from the apparently unconscious Alchemist. Alive, at least. That was something.

The one-eyed bandit turned his apoplectic glare on the Sergeant, his snarl bestial.

"We had a good thing going here." He seethed. "Castle, money, all the ale we could carry. And then you had to come along and fuck it all up!" He glanced down at the Gnome. "You and your Stuntling friend here!"

With a grunt of disgust, he cast the tiny body aside, Vicktor rolling to a halt against the battlements. The bandit paid him no heed, instead turning to wave an expressive hand over the chaos below, the faltering bandits, the surging forces of the Temerians, the freed prisoners now fighting to take control of the gatehouse, and looming over it all the ruins of the castle, the shattered wall and burning keep.

"How in the fuck did one soldier do all this?"

"Not a soldier." Corrine retorted, raising her sword in a ready stance. "I'm an engineer."

"What's the difference?"

"Something you'll never understand."

Barran's brows creased for just a moment, before fury overcame him.

"Fuck it, you die now!"

The bandit let loose a fierce roar before charging, sword rising high. Corrine adjusted her grip, parrying the first blow even as she felt the impact shiver through her bones. She blocked a second blow, then a third, but had to give ground, taking a pace back. The bandit had the height, and was far stronger than her, even in his wounded state. The pain seemed to be driving him into something like a frenzy state. Flecks of spittle danced on his lips, mingling with blood seeping from his open wounds.

Realising that trading blows would not be in her favour, Corrine shifted slightly, deflecting a fourth attack before dropping into a roll, slipping past the bandit's guard. She slashed at her foe, scoring a light nick to the back of his thigh, but the wound seemed to do nothing. Barran only snarled again, twisting to pursue her.

Once again, Corrine went on the defensive, deflecting each of the bandit's wild blows, giving ground with each strike. Occasionally, she would counter, scoring a couple of light hits, but nothing that seemed to even slow down the looming thug bearing down on her. She stepped back a few more feet, dodging a wild sweep of the bandit's sword, then lunged, jabbing at his gut as his last swing forced him to overextend. A shrill gasp escaped his lips as the point found flesh, drawing forth a fresh river of blood to spatter on the cracked cobbles. Before he could counter, the much smaller and faster Temerian retreated, backing away a few steps, until her booted foot scraped across rough, broken stonework.

Corrine glanced backwards, realising just how close the pair had come to the breach itself. The masonry around her was all uneven, massive cracks running through it as the odd chunk of stone broke free to tumble down on the combatants below. She glanced back to Barran, who now leered at her.

"Nowhere to run, Temerian filth!" He crowed, raising his sword high overhead, ready to bring it down in a powerful, unstoppable slice.

Time seemed to slow down for the Sergeant. Details of her surroundings became clear to her, the spike of adrenaline in her veins pounding loudly as she launched into action. She feinted to the right, then dodged left, hurling herself into a tight roll past the bandit. Her leg kicked out, the thick leather boot striking at the back of the bandit's knee. There was a wet thud, and Barran snarled as his leg buckled under him, the power of his sword swipe sending him stumbling forward a couple of paces as his knee crumpled under him. He caught himself on the very edge of the breach, struggling back to his feet. He turned, slowly, to look back at his enemy, lips still stretched back in a rictus of pure rage.

Corrine had already risen to her feet, panting slightly as she raised her sword, shoulders heaving as she took a couple of steps towards the bandit. She clenched her teeth, still feeling the blood pound in her veins.

"You really wanna know the difference between a soldier and an engineer?" She growled through tightly clamped lips.

Barran had only a moment to look at her in confusion before the soldier raised her sword and, with a mighty thrust, jabbed the sword point-first into one of the myriad cracks in the stonework.

"An engineer knows what leverage is, and how to use it."

The Sergeant shoved on the weapon with all of her strength, forcing it deeper into the widening fracture in the masonry. The stone slabs under Barran's feet lurched and heaved before a large chunk of the wall fell away, taking the one-eyed man with it. A terrified scream escaped the bandit's throat before he tumbled out of sight, vanishing beneath a small pile of worked stone and mortar.

Back on the wall, Corrine sagged, feeling waves of weariness sweep through her limbs. She paused but a moment, taking a couple of breaths to centre herself before concern for her friend rose in her breast. Turning toward the fallen Gnome, she hurried close to Vicktor, kneeling next to him.

The diminutive humanoid's injuries were severe, not a single hair remaining on his head. One of his eyes had swelled shut, struck by some piece of debris. Only a few patches of skin remained unmarked, the rest a series of welts, blisters and open sores. As Corrine moved next to him, one of his eyes flickered open, a cough rising from his chest as he tried to summon a smile, wincing at the effort.

"Ah… Did we get him?" His voice rasped, a wet gurgle somewhere under the words.

"Yeah." Corrine tried to lift her friend into a sitting position, hoping to make him more comfortable. She may have been young, but she was also a soldier. She knew enough of mortal injuries to recognise them when she saw them. "Yeah, we got him. And the Temerians are here. They'll come get us soon."

"No doubt." The Gnome chuckled. "Was that hole in the wall really from the Fermentine?"

"Yes." Corrine felt guilt rise in her throat. "I'm sorry, Vicktor. I got the timing on the fuses wrong. If you hadn't needed to make that distraction-"

"I think we both knew that this plan was not without its risk. You should know by now that mistakes are a natural part of any of the sciences." The Gnome's lips twisting upwards in a kind smile. "At least this way we won't have a roaming gang of thugs using our knowledge for their own ends. And you get a chance to learn from our mistakes. Always learn from your mistakes!"

"I will, I promise." Corrine bowed her head, a long sigh escaping her lips. When she looked at the Gnome's face again, it was already still, the eye glassy, the final breath still slipping between his lips.

The Sergeant waited with her Gnomish friend for a moment longer, before finally rising to her feet, she turned an eye back to the courtyard, where the sounds of battle were receding. The gates were now open, the drawbridge lowered, and a division of Temerian cavalry cantering into the ruins of the castle. The remaining bandits had lost any fight they once possessed, many dropping their weapons and kneeling with their hands raised in surrender. In a few more moments, peace fell across the castle once more. As Corrine watched, a white horse clad in plate armour bearing the Temerian lilies cantered into the castle, surrounded by a retinue of higher-ranking soldiers. The horse's rider removed his helmet to reveal the striking features of Baron Vulko Strenger, surveying the aftermath of the battle with the cold, dispassionate glare of one accustomed to such sights.

Corrine closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath and releasing it. Time to report in, it seemed.

~o~0~o~

Several hours had passed, but smoke still rose from the rubble that had once been the castle of Highwood. Most of the fires had been quenched, although a few of the more intense ones still blazed, sending a few plumes of black smoke into the air. Baron Strenger had ordered them to be left alight, a message to the city to the north.

The Baron now sat under a small tent, bearing the Temerian lilies like everything else the Baron possessed. Strenger seemed to make a show of his loyalty to the crown at every turn, Corrine noted with not a little cynicism. In her experience, those who spoke loudest of their loyalty and dedication often had the most agendas that benefited only themselves.

Strenger sat at a table, cold meats and wine being served to him by a nervous looking serving girl. Various commanders approached him, giving an account of their performance in the battle, any casualties suffered, and resources reclaimed from the castle.

Corrine, meanwhile, stood at a distance, watching the proceedings carefully. She was exhausted, her legs barely holding her upright, but she knew that to show that fatigue or try to rest in any way would earn the scorn, and possibly the ire, of her commanders. Instead she clenched her jaw, and focused on not falling asleep on her feet.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the Baron turned his eye from his commanders to the Sergeant. He plucked a grape from the platter at his side, chewing on it for a long moment as his eyes appraised the soldier before him. Long seconds passed before he gestured her forward.

"You… Sergeant. What's your name?"

"Dennetz, my lord." Corrine offered a salute, making sure to use the correct term of address. As a noble, it would not do to refer to him the same way one would an ordinary soldier. Corrine silently thanked her father's lessons in diplomacy for that little titbit.

"Dennetz, right..." He waved towards a small chair opposite him. "Would you like to sit, Dennetz?"

She looked at the chair, strongly tempted, but she could feel the eyes of the army's commanders drilling into her back, watching her every move. She straightened, banishing any outward sign of weariness from her person.

"Thank you, my lord, but I can remain standing."

"Suit yourself." Another grape popped into the Baron's mouth. He glanced around at the chaos surrounding them. "My men tell me that you're to blame for most of this. Impressive work. How did you topple the wall?"

"Processed Fermentine, my lord." The siege engineer answered crisply. "I managed to introduce roughly a firkin of it to the castle's water supply via the well. On contact with fresh water, Fermentine ignites, producing an explosion similar to Zerrikanian Dragon's Blood Powder."

"Interesting..." The Baron turned his gaze back to her, his eyes so piercing as to be quite unsettling. "Maybe a little excessive, though. After all, Temeria is looking to reclaim these lands from those who think to rise up against us. We're not here to burn it all to the ground."

"It seemed necessary at the time, in order to weaken the castle and its inhabitants and allow the besieging forces access." Corrine felt a little heat rise in her, a flush of blood threatening to colour her cheeks if she was not careful. "...My lord."

Again that piercing gaze, evaluating her, dissecting her. She instinctively knew this wasn't an average soldier, and definitely not somebody to be underestimated.

"So you think you know better than I?" The Barron sniped back.

"No, my lord." Corrine quickly replied. "I was merely explaining my decision made in the heat of the moment, while surrounded by enemies."

"Yes, a shame we couldn't catch this Kevan of Blaviken." The Baron sighed dramatically. "He would have made a valuable prisoner."

Corrine bit back the reply that tried to rise in her throat, the irritation at hearing the Baron value material assets and prisoners over the troops whose lives she had saved, over her own life. Instead, she kept silent, looking ahead steadfastly. The Baron observed her silence, taking a long sip from a goblet of wine.

"You know what, I may have further uses for you." He mused. "Yes, an engineer who can improvise, come up with unorthodox strategies… I think you will be an asset to me in the coming siege. What say you, Captain Dennetz?"

Somehow, Corrine kept herself from flinching at the sudden promotion, ignoring the sudden whispers that arose behind her. Instead, she raised a slightly trembling hand in a salute, jaw clenching in determination. Then, her hand dropped, hovering over her heart as she clenched it in a tight fist.

"It would be an honour, lord Strenger. For Temeria!"


End file.
